In these parts, the phrase “forgit, hell” reflects an attitude typically associated with that unfortunate misunderstanding with our friends up north. The military end of that dispute may have been settled at Appomattox back in 1865, but in subtle ways, it continues to this day, at least for some.
However, Georgia political leaders now seem intent on giving the phrase a whole new meaning, applying it to a neighborly conflict that goes back still farther into the mists of time.
Last month, the state House and Senate passed a resolution that attempts to restart a border war with Tennessee with origins all the way back to 1818. Thanks to a state boundary misdrawn by surveyors that year, Georgia lost a tiny sliver of land to Tennessee, and in the resolution Georgia legislators now demand compensation.
Why now, especially since the territory in question has had no real significance for most of the intervening centuries? The answer comes in two parts:
1. A series of droughts drew attention to metro Atlanta’s rather limited water supply, creating a problem.
2. Somebody pointed out that if Georgia recovered that missing sliver of territory, it would also gain access to the water-rich Tennessee River, creating a perceived solution. (We’ll set aside for a moment the raft of other issues involved, including the cost of piping water south from Tennessee to metro Atlanta and the environmental questions involved in moving large amounts of water from one major watershed to another.)
Under the resolution passed last month with bipartisan leadership, Georgia legislators have offered to forego any legal claims on Tennessee territory, but with a catch. In return, Tennessee has to offer us access to what some estimate to be as much as a billion gallons a day of Tennessee River water. Should Tennessee decline the ultimatum, Georgia would take the matter to the Supreme Court, which has constitutional jurisdiction over such disputes.
The Georgia resolution has drawn considerable national attention, most of it along the lines of “isn’t that cute and funny.” I think it’s frivolous as well, but those who are pushing the idea insist that they are deadly serious about it. They seem to believe that it offers a viable, realistic means of addressing our long-term water problems.
The politics of it is understandable. It’s a free vote for Georgia politicians, a chance to play to the peanut gallery on behalf of the home team. The problem is, it offers an equally attractive grandstand for politicians in Tennessee, who have nothing to lose by a show of defiance to their southern neighbors. The same dynamics that make this a popular approach in the Peach State ensure that the Volunteer State will never voluntarily surrender what we want.
That’s when the frivolous threatens to become serious. To the degree that Georgia politicians make a big deal out of this, publicly threatening lawsuits, etc., a long, extended, expensive and even embarrassing legal battle becomes more likely. That might not be the brightest idea, given that we’re already embroiled in water wars with Alabama, Florida and South Carolina and might need allies in Congress and elsewhere.
For example, public officials in Alabama and Florida have been claiming for decades that Georgia isn’t serious about addressing its water supply issues and is instead trying to solve its problems by stealing resources from its neighbors. For the most part, it’s a false narrative. But when Georgia revives a far-fetched boundary dispute from two centuries ago in order to tap into the Tennessee River, that story becomes a bit more believable.
Then there’s the matter of how this plays at home. If Georgia leaders begin to buy the unlikely notion that a billion gallons of water can be brought south each day from Tennessee, against the will of the leadership of that state, why take the politically difficult step of forcing water conservation? We’ve made progress in that area, but only because persistent drought and legal setbacks finally forced state leadership to act. If we let the mirage of easy water distract us from the work we still need to do, we could leave ourselves high and dry.
